


Excerpts From Two Short Guttings

by noxeulalie



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cannibalism, Gore, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:24:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxeulalie/pseuds/noxeulalie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the morning, Carlos wakes up covered in blood, but cannot even find a scratch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Excerpts From Two Short Guttings

I.

Carlos can feel his sinews separating as the skin around the T-shaped incision in his chest is stripped open. His vision swims and he takes in a breath that is wet with the crackle of his lungs, soon to be exposed to air.

  
He looks up at the man above him, smiling or grimacing, and is unsure of how the features congeal together into one coherent shape. The eyes though, those hollow, sunken eyes like swirling swaths of silk dipped in pitch burrow into Carlos. He knows he is vulnerable.

  
This man, the Cecil that looks like Cecil but speaks in a voice like three tones droned at once, lovingly peels great strands of muscle back, slowly revealing the glimmering rib bone underneath. “Perfect, you’re perfect,” he whispers, like a prayer to some dark higher god, and reaches up to run his sticky fingers through Carlos’ hair.

  
Soon, the viscera hiding in his abdominal cavity is exposed and Carlos is dizzy from blood loss or fear—he is too far-gone to know which. His limbs are heavy and he watches as his intestines disappear down the gnashing maw of this not-Cecil. His eyes close and he is taken away in a rush of chilling air just as he hears the word “Perfect…” slide past lips covered in marrow.

In the morning, Carlos wakes up covered in blood, but cannot even find a scratch.

II.

Cecil looks up into Carlos’ eyes with that strange, innocuous affection of his as he slides a knife across his exposed calf. A vivid ribbon of red blooms on the dark expanse of skin, and thick rivulets of blood creep onto the floor.

Carlos’ limbs feel heavy, and he cannot struggle against the rope that binds him to the chair. He moans softly, and Cecil chuckles. “It’s alright,” he says, cutting him again like one would cut a tenderloin. A few moments later Carlos is presented with a thick piece of thigh meat, dripping and hot. “You get the first taste. Open up and tell me how it is.” He sounds ecstatic. Eager to impress.

Carlos closes his mouth and tries to shake his head. A blood-covered thumb forces its way into his mouth and soon the slice of meat follows. Tears welling in his eyes, Carlos chews once and swallows. For some reason, unknown to even him, he does not gag, and an odd warmth flushes through him.

“How was it?” Cecil asks, grinning widely. He is already cutting more meat from his thigh. He looks up periodically for Carlos’ approval.

He cannot remember responding, but when he wakes up he is sitting at Cecil’s kitchen table, a few great slabs of what looks like roast beef on his plate. He reaches down and touches his thigh. Bloodless.

But in the back of his throat he thinks he can taste a faint metallic tinge--


End file.
